


Perfect

by Alwayshope



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-25 22:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alwayshope/pseuds/Alwayshope
Summary: "They have these foreplay games that last hours where they flirt and stare and whisper and smile and... smoulder. "Tammy considers Debbie and Lou's relationship and thinks about what’s missing in her own life. A Debbie/Lou fic and character exploration from Tammy’s POV.





	1. Fake

My husband, Kenneth (not Ken, Kenneth), is a kind and stable man. A man totally unlike my father; he, of course, was a man of fists, fury, and alcohol. A criminal, like me, with that thirst for the contrary at heart but an unintelligent man who pillaged blindly and stupidly and spent more time in prison than in the trailer we rented. My second stepmother was the closest I had to a mother and she did her best considering she hadn’t got much of a clue about what to do with a seven-year-old girl. We couponed. That, perhaps, is my lasting memory of my second stepmother, we couponed. The rush and thrill of buying in bulk for next to no financial output was the very essence of what held our broken family together and from the age of seven to sixteen, couponing was my hobby and extracurricular activity. I guess it took my mind away from the fact I had no siblings or friends. I just had my second stepmother – I called her mom, but her name was Joanie. As I got older my desires focused on two very specific goals – my only aspirations; first, to continue to possess great qualities of product for little financial input – our only family legacy; and second, to have a perfect family just like the kids at school had. I wanted a house, not one with wheels, and one we owned. It would have many bedrooms and bathrooms that weren’t ever used or needed. I would have a husband who had a respectable job and I would have two children who would be invited to other houses for parties. Good parties, the ones with ponies and the like. And I would be a perfect mother – one who cooked vegetables and went to every play, every event, every school meeting.

And you know what? I achieved those goals – Kenneth and I were perfect, we even have friends – Barbara and Thomas who say ‘You’re living the dream! We all look to you both as examples!’ That’s how I liked it. 

Kenneth is a good man. A kind man. A familiar man. A reliable man. And our house, let me tell you, is stocked with product – and I didn’t even need to pay for it. It’s all I ever wanted.

It’s strange then that when Debbie and Lou saunter into my life I find the disruption both scintillating and terrifying. They are an addiction, like my thievery is, like by quest for sickly monotony is. They feed that lust within me to indulge the bad girl I was born to be. The bad girl the teachers and kids and parents viewed me to be – the criminal’s kid. That’s who I am in so many ways, a rule breaker, a law wrecker, a professional liar. Debbie, Lou, and the others are kindred spirits in a way my husband could never hope to be, bless his heart. They are mirrors of my true self. But, at the same time, they scare me, because to be with them illuminates the fragile façade I live with day to day. For, as kind and good and familiar and reliable as Kenneth is, I don’t love him. Not as Debbie loves Lou – not in that way.

I love that he is well dressed, that he works hard in his job, that he calls me sweetheart and means it, that he indulges my garage warehouse without question, that he is a good father, that he asks me how I am and cares about the answer. I love that he doesn’t drink and that he doesn’t womanize and terrorise. I love the simplicity and normalcy and it’s only when I sit in a room with Debbie and Lou that I start to question to what extent all that is simply… empty, fake. 

I consider this as I sit wedged against the end of the couch, trying to read a book while Debbie is strewn over Lou’s lap. They aren’t kissing, not yet. They have these foreplay games that last hours where they flirt and stare and whisper and smile and... smoulder. They both personify cool – that was one thing I could never replicate or fake; you either oozed confidence or you didn’t. Lou in her black tux and Debbie in her red dress were ethereal; somehow beyond mere mortals; occupying a space reserved for Gods. 

They had been to an event, no-one else had been invited and I doubt it was even work related. They had dressed like they were going to The Ritz. Rose had asked whether they were going on a date and Lou had winked. When they left everyone spoke about what a wonderful couple they are. Rose called them ‘exquisite’ and I wondered what Kenneth and I would be described as… certainly not exquisite. They returned hours later, hand in hand, clothing in slight disarray, and with more money than they had left with. Now Debbie was sitting on Lou’s lap, fingering her hair. Sometimes it was hard to piece together those sides of Debbie – the cool professional I knew, the untouchable and formidable Debora Ocean, and the soft and romantic Debbie who fawned so completely over her partner in crime. Debbie was like a prism held under the light – a million shades of wonderment. And here was just one shade, but perhaps the brightest of them all – Debbie in love. 

They spoke lowly together; their words audible but intended just for them. I was a voyeur in many ways but I couldn’t feel guilty about that when I didn’t feel guilty about the fact that I had stolen near to 700,000 dollars’ worth of needless product in the last three years. 

Their words would have been laughable coming from anyone else’s lips but between them they made flirting the most sexually electric exchange on earth.

“California?” Debbie asked, twirling blonde hair through her fingers, “What’s in California?”

“Long roads,” Lou responded with a soft smile.

“Hmmm,” Debbie hummed, “and where will those long roads take you?”

“Nevada.” The deadpan response made both me and Debbie smile but Lou followed up with a sentence that made my heart clench as I imagined Debbie’s did. “And then back to you.”

“Oh?”

“All roads lead to you, don’t they?”

Debbie tilted her head in an affirmative motion and pressed her body slightly tighter to Lou’s. “And,” Lou said, “What will you do when I’m gone?” Her hand came up to caress Debbie’s back, the motion soft and almost hypnotic. 

“I’ll see my brother.” Mentioning a dead relative might have been a damper to anyone else but the pair smiled, their eyes flicking to each other’s lips and the air was tense with want. Debbie leant in so her words were breathlessly whispered against Lou’s lips, “But I’ll be waiting.”

I held my breath and waited for the inevitable kiss. And, oh gosh, when they kissed, it was like something from a movie. Fingers grasped, moans escaped, and lips caressed with such reverence and passion that it embarrassed me. Is this what kissing is? Is this what love is? I couldn’t help but think, rather cruelly I suppose, of Kenneth and his fumbled but earnest attempts. In my experience, kissing is boring, it’s just a prelude to a rather pleasurable but short event. But this, what Debbie and Lou have, it seems so beyond what I have in my model home. 

I got up suddenly and they broke away, I mumbled something about getting a drink but I spoke too brightly and too energetically to be believable. Debbie’s eyes studied me but Lou, as always, was hard to read. Her expression was restrained but kind.

As I poured a glass of wine, trying not to let the smell of ethanol remind me of my father, I grew hot with embarrassment. They probably thought I was jealous or, worse, a prude. In a brief, mad thought, I wondered what it would be like to be with them – to be them. What it would be like in Debbie’s bed with all her adoration for Lou directed at me? Or what it would be like to be with Lou and have that passion awaken by body? It was a silly and hopeless – mad, mad, mad – wish; for they were so in love. That’s what it is, it’s love. 

And the reality I face is that I don’t love my husband, not like that. And there is no dividing Lou and Debbie, and neither should anything or anyone try. Claude can tell you that.

I don’t want them, I want what they have. True love is real. But then, I never did live in reality. 

It’s funny, isn’t it? The biggest cons I know are the realist people I’ve ever encountered.

“You want something stronger?” 

I jumped a little and giggled, turning to face Lou and holding up the bottle. “I have wine, it’s fine.”

She had shed her tuxedo jacket and her white shirt clung to her very nicely; her tie was unfastened and hung loose, and her top button was undone… she looked like a poster child for delectable debauchery. She radiated sex. I’ve only ever radiated anxiety. I must have frowned at the last thought because a look of concern fluttered over her features.

“You alright?” It surprised me that out of the pair, Lou came rather than Debbie. Debbie Ocean was better at such talks but I was grateful for the care and smiled back brightly. “Of course, it’s just been a long day and I really miss my children and husband.”

A lie but true. I missed them but I also didn’t. I sighed and took a gulp from my glass and the alcohol burnt all the way down. 

“Tell me about your husband,” Lou asked, leaning against the counter, trying to be polite.

“Oh,” I breathed with false cheer, “he’s perfect!”


	2. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was so thrilled with the positive feedback on the last chapter that I've written more. I have actually planned this out and one more chapter is coming. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who took the time to comment. It means such a lot.

Debbie has a red mark on her neck, just above the collar bone. It’s scarlet. 

I haven’t had a mark on my neck since college. 

I wonder where else she has marks and how they came to be. I know who caused them.

I bit my lip and continued to stare. Debbie’s hair was up in a ponytail and she clearly didn’t care who saw the bruise. Kenneth doesn’t even kiss me goodbye on the doorstep in case the neighbours see and think us improper. We live in a good neighbourhood. 

Does Debbie not care that the hicky can be seen? Is she proud of it? Does she even know it’s there?

A cough jolted me and I turned so quickly my neck hurt. Rose was looking at me, her glasses perched on her nose and her gaze peering above the lenses. 

“You alright there, Tammy?” she said, her accent thick. “You’ve been staring for a while.”

I smiled and shook my head. 

“You two ever date?” she asked nodding towards Debbie and I felt heat rise to my face and I knew I was flushed. It was like I had been caught and my body drowned in self-created embarrassment. 

I stuttered my reply, “N, n, no… I just… there’s a mark…”

Rose, who had returned to her sewing, glanced again over her glasses at Debbie and then grinned. “Ah I see! It happens!”

Not to us all, I thought. 

I wondered why she had asked. Do I seem jealous? Fixated? Obsessive? Am I weird? Can they sense it? I bit my lip until it started to hurt. When Rose said nothing else and continued to sew sequins to voile, I relaxed and allowed my mind to wander once more. No, nothing had ever happened between me and Debbie. All I had with Kenneth (Timothy before him). Two men. That’s it. That’s my lot in life. 

Once, years ago, I wondered if Debbie was flirting with me. There was this one day, when we were knocking off a casino, where I was flapping over finding the right supplier for a Roulette Pill and Debbie leaned in, obliterated my personal space, and said ‘You can do it, Tammy. Get that shit together.’ Her body warmth mingled with mine and as I turned to look at her she was so close I could see the golden flecks in her eyes. I thought then, in a mad second, that maybe I was special but then just as suddenly she was gone. 

Lou had entered the room and I ceased to exist. When Lou enters the room everyone fades away into a sea of grey with Lou illuminated in the centre in bright technicolour. Debbie gravitated towards her like a moth to her flame and they stood in a busy room as if alone in the world. 

The realisation came to me slowly but brutally – I’m not special. Sure, we are friends but in reality Debbie manipulates, conditions, and coheres me. I let her. There’s been times she’s literally loomed over me or cornered me. She dominates. It isn’t flirting, it’s flexing. You know how I know the difference? Because Debbie Ocean takes what Debbie Ocean wants. And she took Louise Miller. That’s the bottom line. 

She wanted the casino and she took it. We all walked away with 2 million each. 

She wanted Lou and she took her.

I went home. 

My musings are suddenly disrupted as Lou bursts in the door, helmet in her hand, and a piece of paper in the other. 

“We have a big fucking problem,” she said.

The rest of the day is absorbed by the problem, one that Nine Ball later solves. 

***

I lay awake listening to them express their connection in the most physical of expressions. I never made noises like that with Kenneth. I tried to convince myself it’s because we have to be quiet because of the children but if I’m truthful I’d admit that one of the great joys of pregnancy is that I can avoid sex. Within a year of marriage, it had started to repulse me. The act was one I could tolerate and enjoy in small measure but largely a task I wanted to complete quickly and proficiently and move on. Like the ironing. That was within a year. 

Debbie told me once that she first met Lou when she was twenty three. 

As I lay awake listening to them gasp and moan their pleasure I wondered how that passion had lasted over twenty years and mine hadn’t lasted one. 

Maybe the hadn’t been fucking the whole time. Maybe it was just now, since Debbie returned. Maybe they would grow tired of each other. 

But I knew that wouldn’t happen. A 5-year separation makes or breaks a couple and it’s only made Debbie and Lou tighter. Having lost each other once they won’t do it again. 

I didn’t need to hear the breathless moans or love declarations to appreciate that. 

Maybe it’s a lesbian thing. Maybe women connect better with women. Is that homophobic? It is genderist? Are even my thoughts wrong? 

It stopped. The noise stopped. I imagined them cuddling in the aftermath, sweaty and sated. I always redressed after. I told Kenneth it was in case the babies came in, but it was because the act was over and getting dressed cemented that. I bet Debbie and Lou didn’t redress. 

I lay awake for hours, just reminiscing, thinking about my wedding day and the day both my babies were born. Around 3 am I got thirsty and tiptoed downstairs. In the darkness of the living room I saw Lou, dressed in nothing more than a long shirt, drape a blanket over Rose who had fallen asleep sewing, her pink fabric had dropped to the floor and cotton was still clutched in her fingers.

Lou caught my gaze, smiled, and rolled her eyes good naturedly. 

Together we wandered to the kitchen and in low whispers conversed while we made our drinks. 

“Can’t sleep?”

I shook my head and focused on piling heavy teaspoons of coco into my mug. I didn’t know where else to look as Lou’s top was missing several buttons revealing a lot of cleavage and the shirt hung only inches past her bottom. “No,” I whispered. “You?” I cringed then, knowing full well why Lou was awake.

Still she shook her head and said, “I don’t sleep all that well, especially not before a con.”

“Really?”

She nodded. Rather boldly, for me, I added, “I worry…” but my voice trailed off and I found I could say no more than that. 

“Everyone worries,” she said, “even me.”

That insight was a gift and one I knew she wouldn’t give out freely to just anyone. She admitted a weakness to make me feel less insecure in my own. 

“What worries you?” she asked, while pouring hot water into our mugs. A third was poured and this, I assumed, was for Debbie.

I shrugged at the question.

“It can help to talk,” Lou said, picking up two of the three mugs. 

Oh, how I wanted to; I wanted to say everything all at once in a mad rush. But also, I felt I had nothing to say. What indeed was my problem? I had no problems. I have a husband, a house, two wonderful children, and soon nearly 17 million. Who am I to complain?

“Come,” she said, walking ahead of me.

“Where?” I breathed.

“With me, come talk to me and Deb. Maybe it will help?”

I panicked. What would we talk about? But I followed along behind, worried that I would enter the room and have to confess some deep dark secret that I hadn’t even come to terms with yet.

Lou pushed the door open with her foot and my eyes were instantly drawn to the bed in the centre of the room where Debbie sat against the headboard reading her sheet of prison paper with the list on it, making little notes along the side. She wasn’t dressed but had the white sheets pulled up around her chest. Her shoulders were bare and I thought distantly that my question was answered – they don’t get dressed like me and Kenneth. 

I felt out of place, a trespasser, and faltered in the doorway like a rabbit caught in headlights. Lou sensed this and said, “Come on in, mind the mess.”

At that, Debbie looked up, saw me, and smiled invitingly. “Hey.”

Moving around the bed to sit on the right-hand side, Lou gave Debbie a mug and said, “Tammy is going to tell us what the fuck is up and we’re going to help her like the bad asses we are.”

Debbie put down her list and sipped at the hot chocolate. “Good. Makes a change to fix something than to fuck something up.”

Lou reclined against the headboard, her shirt riding up exposing a sinful amount of thigh, and scoffed, “Ain’t that the truth.”

Still, I lingered in the doorway, the mug burning my palms. “It’s fine, it’s nothing…”

“God! Christ! Come the fuck in,” Lou said beckoning me. 

I moved by sheer demand alone. My feet moved me forward before I had even a chance to think and then there I was gingerly stepping over discarded clothes to sit on a wicker chair near the wall. 

I looked around. This I knew to be Lou’s room. I had been in Debbie’s and thought at the time it was a strange set up because it was totally filled with clothes. I now realised that ‘Debbie’s room’ is a storage room, and ‘Lou’s room’ is ‘their room.’ 

It was very well lived in, that’s for sure. Guitars hung from the wall, three of them, all electric. Two large Indian style sheets hung on the backwall, links of fairy lights draped along the walls and over a sofa near the window. Candles, books, and trinkets littered every surface and two large pot plants adorned the corners of the room. Art work was scattered everywhere – most on the walls, some leaning against furniture. I identified some pieces and gasped audibly at the small framed oil painting opposite me, “Is that a Renoir?”

“Yeah,” they said in unison. 

Debbie poked Lou and said, “That’s 500,000 right there that we were supposed to split. And you chose to have it on your wall to look at!”

“You can look at it!” she retorted. “I’m not selling it. I almost lost a hand getting that damn thing through the sewer.”

That sounded exciting. The most exciting thing I had done since my retirement – this heist not included – involved Target lorries. Somehow a sewer seemed oddly appealing. 

“What’s up Tam Tam?” Debbie asked, and I knew this time I had to answer. They had asked too many times already and I was compelled to be polite. Besides, it was now 3.30am and there was only so long I could drag this on for.

“Honestly?”

They both nodded.

So many lines were on the tip of my tongue.

_I want to leave my husband._

_I want what you have._

_I miss this life._

_I don’t want to leave._

_I don’t know what real is anymore._

_I want scarlet kisses on my collar bone and hot chocolate in bed._

_I want to be something other than Tammy Whittaker-Jones._

_I want, I want, I want, I want, I want._

Instead I said, “I’m thinking of having another baby.”

It wasn’t a lie and so they couldn’t catch me out on it. I was thinking about it. A baby fixes everything. Pregnancy, labour, infancy, that’s three years written off with one magical conception. 

Although it wasn’t a lie, I could see it shocked them. My fake friends, the ones who come to my garden parties, would have congratulated me but Debora Ocean pulled a twisted face and said, “You sure about that?”

“As I said, I’m thinking about it. I know Kenneth is keen.”

“Kenneth doesn’t need to push a human being out of his vagina,” Lou muttered, looking equally as thrown.

“I thought the dream was always two children,” Debbie argued and damn her for remembering literally everything.

“Dreams change,” I said.

Lou stared at me, her eyes boring holes through me. “Yes, dreams change – we can choose our dreams, it’s the one thing in life we have full autonomy over. What do you dream about?”

You.

“My family.”

Debbie sighed but Lou simply nodded. “Then, you must feel very fulfilled.”

“I do.”

We drunk our chocolate and conversation turned towards the gowns for the Gala. Lou said she didn’t want a dress and Debbie said she wanted something black because she’d be going to ‘Claude Becker’s fucking funeral.’ They clinked their mugs together at that and soon after I left.


	3. Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well goddamn it. This doesn't seem to want to end. I said three chapters but there will be four simply because this one ran too long. Four will absolutely wrap this up. 
> 
> Darkness, darkness everywhere...

We had all gone out for dinner. All seven of us. We went to an amazing little bohemian place where we sat on the floor to eat and shared food. The last restaurant I went to had a waiting list and fancy china. I preferred this place, it was fun – sitting on the floor to eat is fun. 

The owner seemed to know Lou and spoke to her for a few minutes, gave us a discount, and bought extra wine free of charge.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Debbie said, “when we lived in Sanfran, Lou went to the kebab place so often that they let her go around the serving counter and make her own food. I would turn up to meet her there and she’d be behind the counter at the fryer cooking herself some chicken.”

“That’s why you’ll be the chef for our job then?” Rose said.

“Yeah,” Lou said, ‘“cause making a chicken kebab is all a chef needs to know!”

When we walked back through town, Lou had her arm around Debbie’s shoulders and Debbie had her hand tucked into Lou’s back pocket. They spoke to each other quietly, laughing every so often. They even walked in step like Siamese twins. 

“How long have you guys been together?” Amita asked.

“One hundred years,” Debbie joked. 

“Yeah about that,” Lou quipped.

“So, what’s it then?” Constance asked, “like, you guys, what’s the status?”

At their blank looks she clarified, “Like on Facebook, what you put down? Is it complicated? Is it a relationship?”

“Erm,” Debbie blinked a few times, “is what complicated?”

Nine Ball barked out a laugh, “Nah, she’s chatting about Facebook, man.”

“Yeah, I don’t have that,” Lou said, scrunching up her face as if the thought appalled her.

“What? You fifty or something?” Constance retorted.

Rolling her eyes, Lou muttered, “Something like that.”

“But ok, what is it though. What are you guys? Are you just hooking up like friends with benefits style”, she waggled her eyebrows, “or are you lifers, like in it for the long haul?”

As the lovers glanced at each other, I wondered if they had even had this conversation themselves. But regardless, they answered in unison, “Lifers.”

“For always? Like were you always, back in the day?”

Now this was interesting and I clung to the conversation as if my life depended on it.

Debbie looked taken aback by the question and Lou looked a little amused. “No, not ‘for always,’” the blonde said, copying Constance’s vernacular. 

“We were… what expression did you use? Friends with benefits? We were that for a while.” Debbie admitted to which Lou nodded. 

“It was casual,” Lou said.

“What changed?” Nine Ball asked.

“Five years, eight months, 12 days,” Debbie said with gravitas, “that shit really alters your perspective. Clarifies things. I know what I want now.”

Constance, Nine Ball, and Amita nodded. “Sweet.”

“You know,” Rose said, her hair a mess of curls and ribbons today, “if you ever wished to enter matrimony I could make you custom…”

Lou waved her away her suggestion with her free hand, “I’ve worked hard not to end up in court.”

“But for love!” Rose said, clasping her hand to her chest melodramatically.

Lou glanced down at Debbie, “You need me to prove that?”

She shook her head, momentarily leaning it against her partner’s shoulder, “Nope! Do you need me to prove it?”

Lou made a show of pretending to think and eventually said to everyone’s amusement, “Maybe later.”

Nine Ball wolf whistled and the others laughed. 

I don’t know if Kenneth loves me. I don’t know what he could do to prove it either. I also don’t know if I would care if he tried.

“How long have you been with your husband, Tammy?” Rose asked and I immediately sensed the group was less interested in this conversation, myself included.

“One hundred years,” I said; but flatly and without any of the humour Deb and Lou used. It felt like a hundred years. The others seemed to pick up on the depressive vibe and quietened down.

“Isn’t it nine years this September?” Debbie asked.

I nodded and forced myself to smile, “Yep!”

Rose patted my arm, “That’s traditionally a gift of pottery.”

“Marvellous,” I said with false cheer – figures my next anniversary would be symbolised by something incredibly fragile.

“You must be eager to get home to your family,” Rose said. 

“Oh, I am indeed!” I exclaimed.

I could feel Debbie and Lou looking at me and ignored them.

When I risked a glance over at the pair, Lou was looking back at me with a sympathetic expression and it made me want to cry. Instead I smiled and looked away. 

***

I have a problem and its escalated. A lot of things escalate beyond my control – the stockpile in my garage is a good example for that. But this, I’ve never done anything like this before and I know I’ve crossed a line. A big line. I’ve betrayed good friends and I can’t even tell you why. 

We had run out of cups in the kitchen and I decided to wander through the place collecting up all the missing kitchenware. Rose was well trained and only ever used the one cup; Constance though grabbed a new cup for every drink and ended up with a collection of festering half-drunk coffees and hot chocolates gathered around her. So, I went from room to room gathering up stuff and putting them in a tub to be washed. I got to Lou’s room and knocked a couple of times. There was no reply so I pushed the door open and glanced inside. The room was empty and the bed was made, one of the guitars was missing from the wall and rested on the bed. I ventured inside and ran my fingers along the cold strings and the shiny plastic surface. Lou plays but I hadn’t ever heard her. 

I looked around for cups and found a couple on a side table to the right of the bed, a side of the bed I knew was Lou’s side after our late-night chat. I put them in the tub and the idled by looking at the other things gathered on the table; a small tub of vitamins, a half-eaten bar of chocolate, a ball of string, and a small pile of necklaces. I touched these too. I don’t know why, I just ran my fingertips over the silver strands. Lou did have a lot of jewellery. From there my fingers trailed downwards towards the small drawer. I teased the handle daring myself to open it and like the criminal I am, I gave into that desire, and slowly pulled to reveal the contents inside.

Of all the things in the drawer – a pack of cards, a handful of batteries, folded up letters, candy bars, and rings – the one thing that caught my eye was a pair of hand cuffs. I flushed. Scandalised. Images immediately came to mind of how these might be used and I willed them away. Still, I touched these too, feeling the cool hardness of them. 

A creak startled me – a noise down the hall. I panicked and in a moment of madness grabbed one of the rings, shoved it into my pocket, and slammed the door shut. I managed to straighten just as Debbie walked in.

She didn’t seem surprised to see me there and that worried me. She looked at me as if she knew she had caught me doing something. There was a beat between us where we sized each other up and I concluded that she knew she had caught me doing something but didn’t know what exactly that was.

“I’m collecting cups!” I said cheerily.

“Oh, Lou always has a collection,” she said.

We smiled at each other but neither smile was real and we both knew it.

I left the room and felt the weight of the ring in my pocket and the heat of her stare all the way to the kitchen. 

***

My husband doesn’t smoke. It’s a terrible habit and it’s an expensive one. I also read in an article that said smoke can cling to clothes and contribute to ill health in children. So, smoking was officially banned for our household… even though no-one smoked. We actually have a ban list – films and television shows above a 12 rating are also banned; yes, even for Kenneth and me. 

I think about the list of rules that exist in my household as Lou sits back to front on a chair smoking a cigar while watching Cannibal Holocaust with Constance and Nine Ball. She smokes like she’s having an intimate relationship with the cigar, it’s oddly sexual and sensual all and once. I rather enjoy the smell of a cigar I find – I wonder what it tastes like in a kiss.

She had caught me staring and said “want one?”

I replied “I don’t know what I want”. 

If she looked confused at the response I wouldn’t know because I buried my head in my phone and scrolled through eBay. 

The three of them are talking about why the film was officially banned in America and I don’t need to look up to know why. The television set screams and noises of horror fill the air. Rose pops her head in the room and asks what on earth is going on, takes a look at the carnage on the screen and says “Sweet Lord Jesus, I don’t know how you can watch such a thing.”

Lou grins and leans back in the chair, holding onto the front for anchorage. “Everyone loves to be a voyeur.” She then looked back at me and winked.

The wink made the blood in my veins simultaneously heat and freeze. Did she know? She had to know? Is she being playful? Was that a pointed attack? I stare at her in horror for a long moment and she glances up and catches the dismayed expression on my face and says, to my relief, “Tammy if the film is bothering you, we can turn it off.”

The girls protested that but Lou holds firm, giving me the power to decide. It seems like a big decision – whether to allow the house to watch a film or not. 

“It’s fine, just a bit shocking that skinning scene.”

Lou grins, “That’s a great bit.”

I shake my head and laugh at that. If Kenneth had said that I would have been appalled but everything about Lou was somehow enchanting… even her enjoyment of gore so horrific it was banned globally. 

I shuffle closer on the couch so I’m almost sitting next to where Lou sits on her chair. The TV has her full attention and it gives me the opportunity to study her face… she’s incredibly pretty. I never fully appreciated that before. Louise Miller is so strong and formidable that the delicacies of her can be overlooked – her softness, her prettiness, and her femininity. Maybe handsome was a better word for Lou but that did miss the ways in which her facial features had a softness – her complexion so pale and clear. When she smiled her eyes lit up – such a trite expression, but true. 

“You should look away.” I gasped and looked towards the voice. Debbie stood adjacent to me, watching me with an unfathomable look. 

“W..w…what?”

Debbie slowly slid her eyes from me to the TV and said, “You should look away, they are about to kill a turtle.”

She held my gaze and in the distance I heard horrible sounds that probably signalled the gruesome event Debbie forewarned. But as we looked at each other I worried she was talking about something else. I couldn’t read her expression, she could be so intractable at times. 

***

I needed to go to and speak to a man about high quality bezel settings for Amita who had gone through her supply. I didn’t know the man particularly well and needed to meet him at his market stall. 

I was by the door putting my coat on when Constance rolled passed on her skateboard filming herself. “Someone should go with ya, yo. You don’t know this geezer.”

“I’ll go,” Lou said, “It’s fine.”

Before she could even move from her seat, Debbie said, “No, I’ll go. I need some fresh air.”

We spoke amicably on the way but for the whole twenty-minute car journey, I wondered if Debbie had volunteered just to keep me away from Lou. That thought made me anxious and sad. I felt I was losing my best friends but I didn’t know why or how.

On the way home she asked me, “Still thinking about a baby?”

“Yes,” I said.

“It’s a mistake,” she said boldly and flatly and the sudden certainty of it jarred me.

“Well,” I flustered, “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“You’re my friend, no matter what, and so it is my business,” she returned. 

“I’m fine,” I maintained. “You’ve always judged me for my lifestyle and I know it isn’t the sort of life you want but it is the life I want. I’m really happy and I’m sorry you can’t see that.”

Debbie shook her head and turned off the ignition. “Sure.” She opened the door and with a parting shot, one that hit the mark and blew me away, added, “By the way, you can keep the ring, she won’t even know its missing.”

With that she got out of the car and went inside. I sat in the car a while longer wondering what on earth I was fucking doing. I hit the dashboard with my hand before resting my head on the soft leather. I’m losing my fucking mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more section to go. 
> 
> The final chapter is called Freedom. 
> 
> What do you all hope will happen?


	4. Freedom

After eight years wallowing in stagnation, I finally lived. I lived brightly for one month and then blazed for an evening. The rush is unparalleled; a pregnant ball of anticipation, anxiety and excitement before the euphoric explosion of blissful splendour. The glory of it itches, it burrows deep within the skin and makes my veins crawl with giddy wonderment. Cackling laughter wants to bubble forth and unbridled glee wants to see me skip and jump and holler. To get away with something like this was the most climatic experience a person could ever feel. I wasn’t alive before this moment.

The others experienced the same thing, I knew that to be true. The energy in the room was intoxicating. We share a bond that no-one will ever understand; we share a post-heist rapture that forges a connection deeper than any blood ties. We are linked tighter than any vow. We risked prison for each other and will would all rather spill our blood until our hearts faded away than rat out the other.

The bliss of our supremacy was tangibly realised through drinking, dancing, and smoking. As we all clung together, spinning around, laughing freely, and celebrating copiously, Lou and Debbie were more restrained. Old timers – familiar with the bliss and buzz. They drank champagne and clinked their glasses together like sophisticates. I looked over to them and they raised their glasses to me and I raised mine back.

To my recollection, I can recount no single greater moment than this.

***

The day came for our money to be divided and it was almost a strange afterthought. So, caught up in the chase that the goal of cash seemed almost secondary. We gathered in the kitchen, our new associate included, and discovered we were set to inherit far more than we could have dreamed.

The money, of course, is breath-taking but it’s nothing compared to the astonishing feat Debbie and Lou pulled off. Dazzling. That’s the thing with Debbie, she’s a million steps ahead. She sees more than anyone else. She is Godlike and you better fucking hope you’re on her benevolent side.

I knew neither of them really gave a damn about the money, it’s all about the game. Debbie once told me that Lou stole a 350lb inflatable gorilla from the roof of a car dealership for no reason other than Debbie said it would be impossible to get down. It runs in the family apparently, her father once stole a 10-ton bridge and sold it off for scrap metal. The world is their playground and they are the puppet masters of the people.

The fridge shut, hiding from us the numerous jewels the pair had stolen behind our backs. Lou kissed the crown of Debbie’s hair as she came in for an embrace.

Constance called them the mothers of the group and we toasted to them. Whooping and cheering.

Debbie called us all family. We toasted to family.

The room was suddenly too hot and too claustrophobic. Daphne’s pitched voice, spoilt and entitled, screeched through my ears. Her uncultured ‘Oh. My. Gods’ and fast paced speech made me want to jump out of my own skin. Most sentences started with ‘Like’ and almost all sentences rose at the end like she was stuck perpetually questioning everything. “Like, you just knew you were going to get the other diamonds, like how would you even think to do that? I know I never could. You know what I mean? I mean, one necklace is big enough as it is but to go and take everything else? Like – oh my God! I just…” As she prattled on, I pushed away from the counter I was leaning against and stumbled out the front door. The celebration was over.

Within minutes Debbie was with me, following me towards the little beach.

“Tell me what’s wrong. This is the last time I’ll ask.” She meant it. Of course she meant it, tomorrow we were all going to go our separate ways. We had to; after a big job there needed to be a cooling off period so none of us were connected. A month at minimum. Still it was hard, it always was. Now it was even harder. I don't want to leave.

“It’s what you said,” I confessed on a sob, “Family.” It was honest. The most honest I had ever been with her.

She walked around me until she stood in my line of sight and she waited until I lifted my eyes to look directly at her. “Go on.”

“Family,” I repeated, the word so big that it clogged my throat and made it hard to breathe.

“We’re a family. All of us.” She tilted her head and studied me and I was suddenly scared that she was stealing my secret thoughts like she had stolen the royal diamonds – without me knowing.

I ripped my gaze away from her, if she couldn’t see my eyes maybe she wouldn’t see into my soul. “Not all of us, not in the same way.”

I was edging closer to the truth of what plagued me and she knew it and gave me that final push. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not part of this world… I’m not part of your world.” An admission. I didn’t feel relieved to confess it, I felt more exposed than ever before. I wanted to say more but knew that to rip open those wounds would be too much.

“Tammy, you choose to live in the world you inhabit,” she took and breath and said with more force than I think even she intended, “it’s 2018! Make a choice!”

“I’ve made it!”

“Yeah,” she said, crossing her arms, “I made a choice once too. Like you, a choice that stole my identity and purpose and freedom for years. Unlike you, I got out.”

“It’s not the same,” I cried, my voice rising, “You went to prison.”

She snorted a laugh, “How is that not exactly the same thing?”

“You bitch…”

The door opened behind us and Debbie peered around me to whoever it was in the background. She shook her head and gestured for them to go away.

“Lou?” I asked.

“Daphne,” she replied.

“I hate her,” I snarled, not sure why I did.

Debbie frowned and quirked her lips, “I kinda do myself really. Lou finds her entertaining. We watched one of her films the other night.”

“And?”

“Terrible.”

I laughed and then groaned, “Did we have to bring her in on it?”

Debbie nodded, “Without a doubt.”

“Who talked her into it”

“Me and Lou. She wasn’t hard to convince. Our meeting lasted about five minutes, at the end of it she wanted to go and buy all black clothing and a balaclava.”

That flummoxed me, “Whatever for?”

“To fit in,” Debbie said with a deadpan expression. “She also sent us 22 bunches of roses, a tiara each, and signed autographs. We put those on eBay.”

I blinked rapidly trying to process that.

“She wants friends,” Debbie explained, “apparently tiaras and roses are the path to that. Daphne Kulger is a very good example of someone who looks like they have it all to the outside world but behind closed doors are silently screaming and trying not to drown in their own misery.” After a beat she added, “Be nice to her.”

I rolled my eyes and my friend sighed. “She just came out here to check on you.”

“She doesn’t know me.”

“But she wants to.”

“Well,” I muttered, “I don’t have time for such things, I’m going home tomorrow.”

“To your family,” Debbie said, choosing that word deliberately to sting me.

“Yes.” I said with finality.

“Should be a happy time and yet here you are, out here, crying.”

I brusquely rubbed the drying tears from my cheeks and exclaimed in a mad rush, “I just miss my husband and kids” I muttered. “It’s relief that it’s over and I get to go home now.”

Debbie quirked an eyebrow “That’s such bullshit, I can’t believe you would even try that with me. Lou said you tried it with her and the fact you persist is incredible. You cannot possibly be this fucking delusional.”

“What?”

“You know what!”

Frustration overcame me and I snapped, “I don’t. I actually don’t know anything, Debora.”

“You know what I think?”

“Oh please, do enlighten me.”

“You’re crying. You’re obsessing. You’re unravelling at the goddamn seams and yet stand in front of me, someone who has known you for over 10 years, and lie to us both. You know exactly what you think, what you want, and what you feel. I also think you spend most of your time denying that. Come on Tammy, that house and whole picket fence mirage isn’t you. I told you as much on your wedding day.”

I took in a shuddering breath. She was right, she had done, not in so many words. She had helped me fix my dress and asked me if I was having last thoughts and told me it wasn’t too late to change my mind. I had laughed as if she was telling a joke at the time but we both knew she was serious. It was such a massive change – retiring, marriage, a family, a house in the suburbs. Debbie knew before I did that I was making a massive mistake.

Lou knew earlier and I wonder if she had told Debbie.

“You had second thoughts on your hen night as well, do you remember?”

My heart sank – she did know. As I said, I never had a past with Debbie. That never happened. But eight years ago, on a hot summer’s night standing outside a bar with Lou as she smoked her way through a ten pack, I asked her to kiss me. It was my hen night and I was suddenly filled with fear that I was missing out on life; that, somehow, I was dying and entering purgatory even though this is what I always wanted – the house, husband, and suburbs.

I honestly expected Lou to give in, to give me that kiss, she was a real womaniser back then – I wonder if that was a reaction to Debbie and Claude’s rather insipid and manipulative ‘courtship.’ But she didn’t give in, she said no. “It’s not a good idea,” she had said. I felt ugly and stupid and tears overcame me and I cried right there on the street. She hugged me to her, the scent of smoke swirling around us. “It’s a no because you don’t need a kiss to test how you feel for your fiancé, the fact you asked me is answer enough. Don’t marry him.”

“But what will I be without him?”

She brushed tears away from my face and said, “You’ll be Tammy. That’s all you should be and all you need to be. Don’t let a man fuck this up, I’ve got enough trouble with Debbie and her Curator Crook. At least you can make the right decision.”

Two weeks later I wasn’t able to waver anymore because a little pink + on a pregnancy kit anchored me in place.

At the wedding reception Lou and Debbie were chatting ominously in the corner and I knew they were talking about me, baffled by my decision. We announced the pregnancy that evening and, in the distance, I saw Lou nod to herself, realising why I hadn’t heeded her advice.

It was good advice. It was just a little late.

“I remember the hen night,” I said after a pause.

“You asked Lou to kiss you, you wanted to cheat your way out of your wedding. You wanted an excuse to call it off."

I couldn't deny that. Maybe that was why I was so fixated on the woman. She had seemed like my way out then and lingers in my mind as a missed opportunity.

"And now…” Debbie continued, her voice cold, “I have no idea what you’re doing. But I see you. Watching, wanting, thinking. You’re lucky I’m secure in my relationship because otherwise we might not even be having a conversation right now.”

Blood pounded in my ears and I was scared I was about to lose one of my closest friends because I once propositioned her girlfriend after a pitcher of Tequila and now acted like a crazed stalker. “I’m not in love with Lou,” I felt compelled to say. Worried that’s what we were talking about and I was to become an obstacle for Debbie to ... ‘remove.’ Criminals ‘remove’ people in rather permanent ways.

“No you’re not,” Debbie said. “You can’t be.” It was a statement and a demand. This was her way of warning me off, and I had received the message loud and clear. She relented suddenly and said “We’re friends and we will move past this. I owe you anyway after that whole Belgium thing. But honestly, none of this is about us, or the heist. This is you learning about yourself.”

“And what am I?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know,” I said and that was the saddest sentence I have ever said. I don’t know who I am.

Debbie said nothing and the silence was both comforting and lonely.

I reached into my pocket and withdrew the ring. It was silver with a turquoise stone. I handed it out to Debbie who shook her head and refused to take it. “Keep it.”

“It’s not mine,” I said rather sadly.

Debbie grinned, “It’s not Lou’s either, she stole it from Tiffanies.”

“Still, I took it from her.”

Debbie folded her hand over mine, making my fist close around the ring. “Keep it. Let it be a symbol of your awakening.”

“What am I awakening to?”

“That’s for you to work out. We’re here for you Tam, always. And when you do work it out, you come and find us.”

Rose, Constance, Daphne, and Nine Ball went back to their lives. Amita left the country, Lou left on her California trip, and Debbie went to see her brother. I went home.

***

I have a bigger garage and a forklift.

  
The garage is amazing; it’s all I could have hoped for. Yet the calendar reads ‘July’ and I know that July is the month Lou was heading back from her trip and to Debbie.

I tried not to think of them. Whenever they slipped into my thoughts I distracted myself. I do flower arranging now.

***

In August I received a postcard from Florida. Signed Lou and Debbie.

The picture on the front was of the coast and the message emblazoned across the waves read ‘wish you were here’.

I read those words while sitting next to the pool, my children squealing and splashing before me. The tear that trickled down my face was quickly brushed away and no one saw it. If no one saw it, it didn’t happen.

***

In September, I was frosting 50 gluten free cupcakes when I received a text from Debbie that read, “We r bk. Went to Disney (seriously).”

Then it happened. I can’t tell you how or why. It just happened. I texted back, “What do I do? How do I do it? How do I leave?”

There was a long pause and I wondered if she was strategizing the best reply with Lou. “U have a separate bank account & U have somewhere 2 stay, get ur paperwork together, contact a divorce lawyer, explain the situation 2 Ken, then explain it 2 the kids. Then leave.”

My fingers trembled over the keys, “I don’t have a place to stay.”

The response was instant this time, “We’ll sort it.”

I scrambled for a tissue to wipe away the tears that had fallen onto the screen of my phone.

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

***

12 hours later I received a text with an address; I memorized it and then deleted all my messages. I then called my lawyer.

***

November 15th I text Debbie one line “I’m on the train.”

She texted back “Meet @ address. 1 hr.”

I took a taxi to the location Debbie had sent me and found myself in front of a luxury apartment block in the city holding my children’s hands. We took the lift to the 19th floor and when the door opened there Debbie stood wearing jeans and a long coat, leaning against the doorframe of apartment 95, Lou was by her side wearing dark sunglasses, a black one-piece suit, and a tangle of necklaces.

Lou waved at my children and held out two lollypops.

But the best gift of all was the present Debbie handed to me. “We got you one cut.”

I took the key and knew it to be freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for coming on this slightly bizarre journey. Please do leave a comment and let me know what you think.


End file.
